You Can't Always Get What You Want
by jasmine105
Summary: After an absence of many years, a lady from Horatio's past unexpectedly shows up. Her bittersweet appearance reminds him that you can't always get what you want - from life or from love.


(_Note_: _This story is set twelve years into the future.)_

**YOU CAN'T ALWAYS GET WHAT YOU WANT**

Sitting at one of the outside tables of Angelo's Cafe, Horatio enjoyed the feeling of the early morning sunshine as it bathed his lightly tanned face. He drank the remaining coffee from his cup as he observed the bustling activity on the busy street where the little cafe was located. Boutiques and small, specialty gift shops surrounded the cheerful restaurant, as did a nearby park. With good nature, Horatio regarded an itinerant musician on the edge of the park who was beginning to set up for day of cheap entertainment.

Watching the scruffy haired young man set out his guitar and music, Horatio absent-mindedly began to rub his left thigh. He knew it was just a matter of time before he was going to have to bite the bullet and have the hip replacement surgery his doctor had been badgering him about, but he was still fighting the idea. His eyes ruefully glanced at the cane propped up against the table.

_It's hell getting old_, he thought.

Thirty years of police work, both in New York and Miami, had taken its toll on his body. Aches and pains were common at his age. Still, for a fellow who was seventy, he wasn't doing so bad... the aches and pains pretty much went away as the day progressed. It was just the damned hip he was going to have to do something about. And sooner, rather than later.

An attractive woman walked past his table as she made her way down the street, nodding pleasantly in his direction. Horatio smiled back.

He was still a handsome man – even at seventy. The blue eyes still sparkled with enthusiasm. The hair... well, it was not as red as it once had been. He was slowly turning white, and that did prick his vanity a bit, but there was nothing to be done about it. At least he still had his hair, and his body was thin and hard, considering his age. Since his retirement from the MDPD ten years earlier, he'd started working out earnestly with weights.

"Hey, Lieutenant, you wanna another cuppa? The decaf, I got it here." Angelo Marchetti was standing next to his table, looking at him inquiringly.

Horatio smiled and nodded. "Thanks, Angelo... So, when are you going to stop calling me 'lieutenant'? It's been a long time since I was on the Force."

"Never... you'll always be the lieutenant to me. Whad'am I s'posed to call you? 'Professor'?" The cafe's silver haired owner made a dismissive 'phffft' sound as he refilled Horatio's cup.

"That would be more accurate at this point," replied Horatio, thinking of the weekly course on forensic science he taught at the Miami Dade School of Justice. "I'm certainly not a cop any longer."

Angelo pursed his lips. "You? You'll always be a cop. It's in your blood – like cooking is in mine. How long you and me know each other now, Lieutenant?"

"A long time," mused Horatio, recalling the first time he'd met Angelo.

The man had run a small Italian take-out place back then, and it had been burned to the ground by a two-bit hoodlum working for some clown who had a grudge against Angelo's brother. The brother, not much better than the hoods who were after him, owed money to a local crime boss; when he couldn't pay, vengeance was extracted in the form of burning out Angelo's business. Horatio had caught the bums who'd burned the place down, and was instrumental in getting them to serve time on the inside.

For that, Angelo had been grateful; his experience with cops in the past had not been particularly good. He was an immigrant – and some police officers had a way of looking elsewhere when help was needed. But not Horatio. Soon an unlikely friendship developed between the two men, and when Angelo opened his cafe some eighteen years earlier, Horatio and his team were frequent diners. Now that he was retired, Horatio still came to the cafe, often with a special companion.

"Yeah, you'll always be a cop. No fancy job teaching snot-nosed kids at a college is gonna change that." Angelo stood back and looked at the empty seat next to Horatio's. "So, where's your friend?"

"In the restroom."

"Got some good gelato in the back – chocolate... whaddaya say?"

Horatio grinned. "We'll see."

A voice from inside the restaurant suddenly cried out, "Hey, Angelo - you gotta a call in the back! It's the fish guy..."

Angelo sighed. "Never a moment's peace," he said, frowning at Horatio. "Maybe I should think about retiring, too."

"Not you, pal – it's in your blood, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah," said the man, turning toward the restaurant's doorway. "You let me know if you want the gelato."

Horatio picked up the cup of coffee and took a sip. Idly, his eyes scanned the surrounding shops and the street before him. Angelo was right about one thing: being a cop was in his blood. Even now, long retired, he was unable to turn off the instincts that made him always on the lookout for possible trouble. He supposed he never would.

_It was in his blood._

Suddenly, in mid motion, his hand stilled and the cup was forgotten as he stared at the backs of two young girls with flaxen hair, prancing merrily toward a town car parked across the street. The girls were young, perhaps ten years old. Both sported a single thick braid that reached almost to their waists and they were dressed in matching black velvet dresses. Pretty girls, they were, as he could see from their profiles as they turned to each other, full of chatter and laughter. His eyes would have soon moved on but for the woman who accompanied them.

She was tall, blonde, exquisitely dressed, and something in the set of her shoulders and the willowy quality of her walk caught Horatio's attention. Before his mind puzzled out who she was, his heart made the connection, and a rush of intense feeling came over him. He took a deep breath at the onslaught of unexpected memories, and set the coffee cup down, trying to calm himself.

_It had been so long...ten, perhaps twelve, years..._

An eagerness came over him, and he wished the woman would turn around so he could glimpse her face.

Was it _her_ face? Was it?

Yet another part of Horatio's brain dreaded the possibility that she'd turn his way. He wasn't sure his heart was up to it.

Before he could decide which was stronger – the desire to see or not to see – the woman paused, talking to the uniformed driver who was opening the car's door for the girls. As she spoke, she turned slightly and Horatio's breath caught.

_Lauren_.

After all these years.

She looked well. Tall, slender. Her beautiful blond hair _(the hair he used to love to touch!)_ was caught up in a chignon at the nape of her neck, focusing attention on the still lovely profile. She'd always reminded Horatio of Grace Kelly, possessing the same sort of cool, refined beauty and slow, sensual smile.

_That smile. _

Sometimes, late at night, he'd think on that smile. Long to see it.

Truth was, he often found lots of things to think about during the hard, lonely hours between midnight and morning. That's when old memories would have their way with him, and he'd see her in his mind's eye, and remember so many things... intense conversations over shared brandies at Gatsby's; her love of old Sinatra tunes; her bewildering _(to him!)_ interest in politics; the brief year they'd lived together... the happy times before it all fell apart.

And now, there she was – standing there, across the street, memory made flesh. He watched her avidly, willing her to look in his direction, willing her not to...

As if sensing his notice, she glanced across the street, and her eyes suddenly met his. She started to look away, not making the connection at first, but then her eyes again focused on him, and he watched as recognition dawned on her face. A smooth, slender hand suddenly floated up toward her throat as she seemed, for a moment, to have difficulty breathing.

The driver, discerning something was amiss, spoke a few words to her. From his seat, Horatio continued to watch Lauren as she responded to the man, briefly gesturing toward the children in the car. The driver nodded, got into the car and waited.

Lauren turned again toward Horatio, as if undecided. She looked as though she'd received a blow and, for several seconds all she seemed capable of was staring at him. Suddenly, she gave her head a quick, firm shake. Whatever battle she'd been inwardly waging had been decided, and she began to cross the street, headed in his direction.

Awkwardly he stood up, damning his damaged hip for his lack of grace. He didn't want Lauren to view him as an old man. It was important to him that she didn't.

Finally she stood before him, and he saw evidence of a few fine lines creasing the corners of her beautiful gray eyes. As if from another lifetime, a memory came back to him of seeing her for the first time. She'd been standing across the room at some political event, her lively eyes focused on him. He'd been intrigued by those eyes and the knowing amusement in them. It was the eyes that had held him, that had made him want to know her.

They still held him, even now, and it was as if the intervening years had never happened.

"Horatio," she said softly, looking at him. As if she didn't know what else to say, she again repeated his name, this time with a little catch in her voice.

"Hello, Lauren," he said, smiling at her. "It's been a long time, hasn't it?"

She stood there, unsure of herself. "Yes... yes, it has. Would it be wrong of me... to hug you?"

He moved forward and gathered her close, inhaling the perfume he remembered from so long ago. "Lauren... sweetheart, it's so good to see you," he murmured, his voice close to her ear, his breath warm against her sensitive skin. "You look beautiful."

She held him tightly for a moment, and then slowly relinquished her hold, standing back to look at him. "I wondered if I'd see you one day... part of me wanted to, but part of me didn't."

He nodded, understanding.

She smiled. "Your hair – you're almost as blond as me now."

"Yeah," he said, laughing at himself. "Most of the red has faded."

She tilted her head, considering. "I like it. You're a handsome man, Horatio Caine. You always were."

He could read the truth in her face; she wasn't saying something just to make him feel better. To Lauren, he was still the Horatio of years ago. It warmed him; and, yes, it soothed his aging vanity.

A sudden awkwardness came over her. "You know, of course, that I've been living in Connecticut; I guess Alexx – "

"Yes," he interrupted smoothly, "Alexx told me that you'd moved to Connecticut after you married Harper."

He was silent for several seconds, remembering the day Alexx had broken the news to him. After they'd decided to part, Lauren had accepted Finn Harper's proposal. It wasn't long after that Dr. Harper had accepted a position in Connecticut, overseeing one of the largest hospitals in that state. Horatio sometimes wondered if Harper had accepted the position to put some distance between Horatio and Lauren, as if the man was still uncertain of her feelings for him, in spite of their marriage vows.

One night after too many glasses of wine, Horatio clumsily inquired as much from Alexx.

His friend had looked at him with sad, knowing eyes and she shook her head, gently rebuking him. "It's not your place to ask that, sugar. You gave up that right when you gave up Lauren."

_But had he given her up? Hadn't it been her decision, as much as his own? _

Over the years, he'd often thought of asking Alexx for news of Lauren, but he'd refrained. Her rebuke had stayed with him. He had no rights where Lauren was concerned. And it was unfair to Alexx; it put her in the position of deciding what information she could divulge about the woman who had become a close friend when they worked together at a community outreach agency. And so Horatio had remained silent. Still, from time to time, he wondered how she was, wondered if she ever thought of him.

"I thought about you so often over the years, Horatio," said Lauren, jarring him with the similarity of her words and what he'd been thinking. "How have you been? What have you been up to? Are you still with the Crime Lab?"

"Good Lord, no," he said, a mock stern look on his face. "What would the lab be doing with an old dinosaur like me?"

"Not so old," she said, a misty look in her eyes. "If not the Crime Lab, what have you been doing?"

"Teaching... just one course. Forensic science."

"I always thought you'd be a fine teacher... remember?"

He did remember. During the brief year they'd lived together, Horatio had taken a shot while involved in a drug case. It hadn't been much, just a flesh wound, really. But it had been enough for Lauren to begin making frightened noises about his leaving the department. That had played a part in what eventually caused the two to separate, but only a small part.

The other part, the larger part, waited for Lauren in the town car across the street. With his head, he gestured toward the waiting car. "Those pretty girls in that sedan... they look a great deal like their mother."

She glanced in the direction of the car and Horatio watched as a sweet expression appeared on her face. Turing back to him, she smiled. "Clair and Annelise, my twins. They're sweet girls, silly little chatterboxes. They will be asking me quite a few questions about you when I return to the car. Would you like to meet them?"

"No, no," said Horatio hastily. "I don't think so..."

He could see she understood his sudden reluctance and a shadow passed over her face. _Now we come to the crux of the problem_, he thought, remembering the painful discussions the two of them had during their last year together. After the shooting, something had seemed to click with Lauren, and life and the passage of time began to gnaw at her. The fear she'd experienced when he'd been shot had opened a floodgate of sorts, and even Lauren had been surprised by the force of it.

After having lived happily together for a year, she began to press for marriage – and a baby. The marriage he would have gladly given her, for she'd become important to him and he didn't want to lose her.

The baby was another matter entirely.

It wasn't that he didn't like children; he did. And it wasn't that the idea of a child with Lauren wasn't appealing. It was very appealing. He rather liked the idea of a little boy or girl made of his genes and Lauren's; and he found the thought of holding his own child in his arms very tempting.

In theory.

In the end, however, he saw it for the pipe-dream it was. Even then, he'd been no spring chicken; no, he'd been almost fifty-eight, just about the time when a man should be thinking of grandchildren – not children of his own. At the time, his mind had leapt ahead to images of a frail and gray haired Horatio, gingerly tossing a ball to a rambunctious youngster in the park, as they were surrounded by sons with hardy fathers less than half his age. It had not been an appealing image for Horatio, and had served to underscore to his troubled mind how unfair it would be to a boy to have a father who was more suitably a grandfather.

He had tried to communicate this to Lauren, had tried to make her see the folly of it, but she had refused to listen. Lauren was barely thirty-seven then, and Horatio knew it was unfair of him not to give her a child. Each time she'd bring the topic up, he'd change the subject, and each time she'd grow a bit more distant toward him. She didn't want to hear about his fears, which she tended to dismiss. And while the idea of a baby hadn't been one of primary importance to her in the past, it had taken taken root in her mind with tenacity and she began to express fears that if they waited too long, she'd never be able to conceive.

_Just think about it, Horatio_, she had implored him. _Please, honey... think about it_.

That had been the problem, though: he had thought about it. The idea began to box him in. _Was it his fault he was too old for this?_ He began to resent the pressure that Lauren's desire placed upon him; but he also started to taste again the fear of loneliness. Whether she had yet realized it, she was moving away from him. The idea of children had taken her over, and if he did not acquiesce, he knew he'd lose her. And could he blame her? Were her desires no less important than his own? Of course not... the problem was they were mutually exclusive.

He had considered giving in, just to keep her.

In the end, he couldn't. He knew the idea of having a child this late in his life was unrealistic. That time had passed, and while the image of the child in his arms was seductive, the reality of raising a child at this point in his life was not.

One of the hardest things in a life already used to hard things had been the breaking of that news to Lauren, and telling her it was definite. He would not be changing his mind.

She had taken the news reasonably well, and hadn't carried on; she just looked at him. She knew once his mind was made up, he was immovable. She accepted it.

She cried silently, but her heart accepted it.

The two lovers also accepted they'd come to the end of their relationship. An invisible but very real line had been crossed. Horatio realized that even if Lauren had put aside her own desires in order to stay with him, she'd begin to resent him for what she could never have. He didn't want to risk that...

And so they agreed to part.

Several months later, Lauren married the widowed doctor who had been on the staff of the outreach agency. Horatio hadn't been too surprised. Prior to their breakup, he had watched as Lauren slowly began to experience a change of heart toward the outwardly cold and pompous doctor. At a party at the agency, he recalled that the doctor had been quite warm toward Lauren – too warm for Horatio's liking at the time. He remembered Lauren laughing at him when they were alone in their bed that night, accusing him of being foolishly jealous.

Apparently not since the doctor had been able to so ably step in once Horatio was out of the picture. Even now – even after all these years – the thought galled him. _How ridiculous I am_, he thought, _pretending to still be the injured party._

He was not the injured party. Not by a longshot. He'd decided his own fate.

Meanwhile, Lauren had read his reluctance at meeting her children correctly. She understood he didn't want a look at what his future might have held. At this point in time, why look backward?

"It's okay, Horatio," she said. She was about to say more when her words were suddenly cut off by the voice of a young boy.

"Pops? You done yet?" The boy looked briefly at Lauren and then back at Horatio. "Is it time to leave for the movie yet?"

Horatio smiled down at the boy, his hand reaching out to ruffle his light brown hair. "We've got plenty of time, pal."

The boy looked again at Lauren, his bright blue eyes inquisitive. "Who's this?"

Horatio glanced at Lauren who had moved her eyes from the boy's face to Horatio's, and he was taken aback by the wounded look of betrayal in her wide, startled eyes. Too late he realized what she was thinking, and he moved quickly to make introductions. "Lauren, this impertinent little scamp is Kyle's boy. Noah, I'd like you to say hello to an old friend of mine. This is Lauren."

"Kyle's son? You're a grandfather!" she said, her voice rich with relief. She had experienced a very bad moment when she'd looked at the young boy with his light smattering of freckles and vivid, familiar eyes. She knelt down in front of him, and the boy tilted his head suddenly, sharply, studying her. The gesture made her smile, reminding her once again of Horatio.

"Hi, Noah. I'm so happy to meet you," she said, holding out her hand for him to shake. "I not only know your grandfather, but I know your dad... we used to be pretty good friends at one time."

"How come I never met you before?" he asked. Something about the lady disturbed him. She seemed funny, as if she was about to start bawling... pretty much, in fact, the way Becky Hess always looked when she tried to kiss him and he turned away.

"Oh, I live far away from here... in a state called Connecticut. Ever hear of it?"

"Of course... I'm not a baby, you know. I'm seven, almost eight, and I can name all the states in the union. You want to hear me?"

"Now now, Noah," said Horatio, grinning. "Tell you what, pal, why don't you go inside and hunt up Angelo. He has some chocolate gelato back there."

"What's that?" asked the young boy suspiciously. His Pops had a strange look on his face, and Noah wasn't entirely sure he liked it. He sensed Horatio was trying to get rid of him for a few minutes.

"It's ice cream, very good ice cream, in fact. Now go on... ask Angelo for a cone. Then we'll start for the movie."

Lured by the idea of the chocolate ice cream and the movie he'd been anxious to see all week, Noah quickly went in search of Angelo, leaving Lauren and Horatio to face one another.

Rising to her feet, Lauren glanced at her watch and bit her lip. It was getting late, and she could see that her driver had stepped outside the car, sending her the subtle message that they should soon be on their way. She'd promised Finn that she'd meet him at one o'clock so that she and the girls could have lunch with him. They were in Miami so that Finn could attend the hospital conference that was annually held in the sunshine state. She supposed it was time to leave... and yet she didn't want to go, not just yet. She looked up to find Horatio's warm gaze on her, and she colored slightly.

"I have to go," she said softly. Regretfully.

"I know," he replied.

"Your grandson... I thought, for a moment... I thought he was..."

Horatio stopped her, reaching for her hand. "I know what you thought." He paused, wondering if he should re-open an old wound, one that had the most delicate of scabs on it. Looking into her eyes, he decided to risk it. "Lauren... if it had been with _anyone_, it would have been with _you_."

Her eyes grew wet at that, and he reached for the handkerchief in his pocket, dabbing at the moisture suddenly appearing in the corners of her eyes. "Hey, now, none of that, sweetheart... okay?"

She nodded. Something in her expression twisted Horatio's heart. "You're happy, Lauren... you _are_ happy, right?"

Again she nodded.

"I need to _hear_ you say it," he said suddenly, fiercely. "I need you to _say_ it. Tell me you're happy!"

"I'm happy," she replied, her voice tremulous. "I am... he's... he's good to me, Horatio. Kind... And my girls... they're my life."

Relieved, Horatio let go of her hand, taking an uneasy step backward. _If she hadn't been happy, if all of this had been for nothing..._ the thought frightened him. He couldn't face it, and so he let it go.

"And you? You're happy, too – right?"

He hesitated and thought about it briefly. Was he happy? He thought of the two girls in Lauren's waiting car, and of the expression that had lit up her face earlier when speaking of them.

Yes, he was happy. He'd made the right decision. "I am," he said quietly.

She took a deep breath. "I should go now."

"Yes," he replied.

She started to turn away, but then stopped, her back to him. "I bet you don't know that we come here every year... and each year... each year, Horatio! I look for you. I look for you. I look for your face in crowds... Afraid I won't see you... Afraid I shall. I never knew which would be worse, to see you or not. _Now_ I know."

She turned and looked at him. Reaching out her hand, she stroked the side of his face. "I can never see you again."

"I know," he said simply, understanding.

"I can walk away _this_ time... I might not be able to... the next time."

He swallowed, his throat painful. "I might not be able to _let_ you the next time."

She knew she should leave, but her hand refused to leave his face of its own free will. Horatio thought of those little girls in the car, and gently he took her hand in both of his and brought it to his lips. "Goodbye, Lauren... be happy."

Yet still she lingered. "Will you kiss me, for old time's sake?"

He moved forward and touched his lips to hers. "For old time's sake," he said, and kissed her.

A moment later, he moved away. "You have to go now, Lauren," he said quietly.

She touched his lips with her fingers, delicately tracing their outline, and then, finally, quickly, turned away.

Horatio watched as she hurried to the waiting car. She never turned back to look in his direction, but simply allowed the driver to open the door, and then quickly slipped inside. The door closed, and Horatio was unable to make her out behind the darkly tinted glass of the sedan.

The driver got in, started the car, and slowly pulled away. Horatio's eyes followed the vehicle, knowing - even if he couldn't see - that Lauren was looking back at him. When the car turned the corner, he sat down heavily, feeling as if he had just added an additional five years onto his life.

_Lauren. Oh, Lauren!_

His heart beat dully, painfully. He'd often wondered what it would be like to see her again. What he hadn't counted on was the sudden desolation he felt at her departure... the same desolation that he had experienced years ago. He lowered his head, looking at the barely visible pattern on the tablecloth.

So many 'what-ifs' crossed his mind: what if he'd put aside his doubts and had a baby with her; what if he'd lied to her, pretending to want a child; what if he'd held on to her, refusing to let her go.

The realist in him knew these were the ponderings of an old and lonely man. He had done the right thing; the only thing he could do under the circumstances.

_And yet..._

And yet he recalled the look on her face as he kissed her one last time. He remembered the warmth of her lips and the need in her eyes. She loved him still. He knew that... he knew it as surely as he knew that he still loved her.

But it would never have worked. They were mismatched from the start: a man twenty years older, carrying all the unhappy baggage that those twenty years had accumulated; and Lauren, still young, still wanting a child.

A memory surfaced of Lauren's father, a man who had disapproved of their relationship from the beginning. During one uncomfortable meeting, he'd taken Horatio aside and commented that he was closer to his own age than to Lauren's – and had intimated that differences barely noticed then would grow more important as the years went by.

At the time, Horatio (and Lauren) had been unwilling to listen. They should have.

_Time is everyone's mistress_, thought Horatio tiredly, rubbing his forehead. And in the end, Time always had her way.

"Pops, you okay?" asked a worried Noah, coming to stand by his grandfather's chair.

Horatio dropped his hand from his brow and looked at the young boy. He smiled at the sight of him. He was wearing a ring of chocolate about his lips, but for all of that, there was a serious cast to the child's face, one that seemed to hint of a wisdom beyond his years.

"I'm fine, pal. How'd you like that ice cream?" he asked, dabbing his napkin into a glass of water and beginning to wipe the chocolatey mustache from Noah's upper lip.

"It was good." The boy paused, looking around. "Where's the pretty lady?"

"The pretty lady has gone home," said Horatio, a tone of finality in his voice. "Home to her husband and family."

The boy said nothing, looking into Horatio's face. "You like her, don't you?"

"I do... very much."

"Is that why you look so sad?"

Horatio didn't know what to say to that and simply gazed into the eyes that were so much like his own. Finally he stood up. "You know, pal, if we're going to make that movie, we better get a move on."

Together he and the boy left the cafe and began walking down the street. As they crossed the path of the musician, both grandfather and grandson paused to listen to the guitarist as he sang the words to an old Rolling Stones tune from Horatio's youth:

_You can't always get what you want  
__You can't always get what you want  
__You can't always get what you want  
__But if you try, sometimes you might just find,  
__You get what you need_

Horatio felt the touch of his grandson's hand as he slipped it inside his grandfather's bigger one. He looked down at this boy he loved so much, and he couldn't help smiling at what he saw. Noah's earnest face was looking up into his. He knew something was amiss with his beloved Pops, but he wasn't sure what it was... or how he could help. Suddenly, he squeezed Horatio's hand tightly, and Horatio felt as if his heart would burst with love.

_You get what you need._

_Yes, thank God_, thought Horatio. _We don't always get what we want in life, but sometimes we get what we need_. And he needed this – this bright, shining spirit standing next to him. The boy was so much like him, and yet so different. An improved version. Hopefully, a happier version.

He squeezed the boy's hand in return, and they continued walking down the street.

**The End**.

**_Author's Note _**

**_When I'd started the Lauren and Horatio series of stories, I always envisioned a multi-chaptered ending to the series in which the two lovers discovered they were at different, incompatible points in their lives and thus must part. But when it came time to write it, I found I was unable to do so. I didn't want to show the break up of their relationship. And so I ended the series on a happy note._**

**_Yet the demise of the relationship continued to haunt me. And then it occurred to me, perhaps I could show it as an event that had occurred in their past, and thus make it more bittersweet - rather than just bitter._**

**_I loved writing the Lauren and Horatio stories. And I'm happy to put this final cap on it; it seems a fitting end for how I saw their relationship._**

**_It also seems a fitting story for New Year's. Perhaps some of you agree with me that New Year's is often a time for bittersweet memories and reflections – especially reflections concerning 'the road not taken'._**

**_Whichever roads you may have taken in your own lives, I hope they have been gentle ones. And if you should ever feel that you didn't quite get what you wanted, I hope that you - like Horatio - got what you need._**

_**Happy New Year to all – and best wishes that you all get what you need in 2014.**_

_**Jasmine**_


End file.
